


Imperial Ascension

by wizardslexicon



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-28
Updated: 2014-06-28
Packaged: 2018-02-06 15:34:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,580
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1863084
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wizardslexicon/pseuds/wizardslexicon
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Meenah Peixes' duel for the throne of Alternia.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Imperial Ascension

The cameras were an annoyance, their steady lights scorching Meenah’s sensitive skin, but she wasn’t going to scratch—if she won, this video would become legendary, and all of Alternia for the next few thousand sweeps, if she had a long reign, would see her itchy and uncomfortable. That’s not the kinda Empress she was planning to become.

But before she could put her plans into actions, she had to get her predecessor out of the way.

“All rise for Her Impetuous Belligerence,” announced a throaty subjugglator from a small podium. From the shifting masses of the watchers, mostly indigo and above, Meenah spotted a few friends of hers: Kurloz, his hair blocking the view for a few rows back, and his retainer, Horuss, sweating faintly but otherwise the picture of serenity. Kurloz had a fine parchment spread in front of him, with brightly colored inkwells that Meenah suspected strongly were blood. It was on these that her title, which would be based on her performance in battle, would be written in the event of her victory. Meenah was jilted from these thoughts by the frantic waving of that bastard Ampora, but he wasn’t a friend of hers, as far as she was concerned, so she ignored him.

From the other side of the arena, the dry part of which was surrounded entirely by deep water, there came a faint sound, and an increase in the size of the waves of water that lapped against the side of the ring. The crown of the previous Empress, with her hair in an elegant updo with large pearls woven through, broke the water, followed by a face full of cruel teeth and a necklace laced with the teeth of the sharks in her hive’s waters.

_Pathetic_ , thought Meenah, as the harsh lines of the Empress’ face came into view. _Ruling just Alternia...we gotta get this shoal on the road! One shorey planet for the strongest race in the galaxy!_ She spat on the ground in front of her, and the crowd gasped quietly at the show of disrespect. Meenah was well known as a punk, a vicious bruiser who scorned weakness and tradition in equal measure, but to openly disrespect the Empress...

“No matter,” said the Empress, in her harsh voice. She wasn’t old for a fuschiablood, which was good luck—she hadn’t grown into the almost unbeatable strength of the older Empresses. “Her insolence will be paid for hundreds of times over.” She held out a hand, and a golden sabre was pressed into it by a violet attendee, who quickly jumped back into the water and swam to the stands.

Ampora scurried up and handed her a golden, two-sided trident. He did something funny with his hands, probably trying to make it look like they were matesprits on the live broadcast, and she smacked him away, her superior strength enough to knock him into the water, where he sank like a stone and had to be dragged out by lifeguards.

“Any last words?” said the Empress, stretching luxuriously in her skintight wetsuit. Meenah didn’t know who the Empress was trying to fool: she had the figure of a starving limeblood, the sorry bitch. Even the anger and violence that had given her her title in her own duel of succession seemed to have diminished.

“Get bent, fishstick,” said Meenah, and the gong rang for the combat to begin, as well as a strange mechanical sound from below..

Meenah was wrong about the anger having diminished. As the Empress sprang like lightning toward the younger troll, it was obvious that she’d only been holding it in. Meenah’s trident sprang up just in time to stop the cutlass, but the Empress lashed out with a kick, and would have knocked Meenah into the pool, had Meenah not seen something there and moved with the force of the blow.

The water’s surface was flushed rust, and teemed with shark fins. Meenah could just spot, through the murk, gates that had been opened, which must have been the source of the mechanical noise. So moving into the water meant death...alright. Meenah set her face. That had looked bad. She had to put on a show. Unlike the Empress, she was dressed more simply in ripped black jeans and a crop top bearing her symbol, the clothing loose to keep her movements unrestricted, and she wore no jewelry. Even her thick, voluminous hair was kept in its usual tight braids to get it out of the way. That meant the show she put on had to be exemplary.

“Didn’t even stingray,” she called out, twirling her trident quickly. “Ya wanna come harder than that, shark bait?” The Empress didn’t spring this time, but ran, parrying Meenah sharp thrust and charging, hoping to knock the lighter girl into the water, but Meenah was much faster, dodging the rush and tripping the Empress easily. The woman went sprawling, and Meenah laughed, skipping away and winking to the crowd, which tittered uncomfortably. No one wanted to laugh, and then get executed if the Empress won.

“You arrogant sprat!” roared the Empress, hurling her sword at Meenah at top speed. Meenah leaned a few inches to the side and felt the air sing beside her, then heard screams in the stands as a reporter took the sword in the chest. Meenah shrugged widely, eyes closed, and then very deliberately dropped her trident to the ground. The insult was sharp: Meenah was implying that she could beat the older, stronger, and more experienced Empress to death with no need of weapons. She was looking down on the strongest troll Alternia had to offer.

The Empress swaggered over, closer to Meenah with both hands up, ready to throw a punch. Meenah sauntered in little circles, hands in her pockets, and began to whistle “Boss Bass Fish”. The Empress’ first punch sailed over her head, and Meenah hopped into the air with all the grace of a ballerina, hands still in her pockets, and landed on the Empress’ outstretched arm before the monarch could react. With an easy twirl that escalated into a rapid spin, Meenah slammed her right foot into her face, then pushed off in the opposite direction, hit the ground spinning, and crouched down to avoid another blow.

The Empress tried a leg sweep, and Meenah did a short jump off the ground to avoid it, threw out one hand from its pocket to support her like a b-boy, and lashed out with both legs, catching the Empress in the chest and sending her flying. Meenah did a backwards roll to a standing position, replaced the hand in her pocket, and strolled over to where the Empress struggled to her feet. Meenah could tell she’d broken ribs, probably damaged organs, but the Empress still endeavored to stand up straight, locket her knees.

“You wanna kneel, fishstick?” asked Meenah. “Might make you a servant when I’m your Empress.” Chuckles, now, from Kurloz, who feared little. The Empress spat blood at Meenah and lunged, but Meenah kicked out one of her knees, hearing the break with satisfaction. The Empress shrieked and fell to one knee. “That’s betta.”

Meenah walked in circles around the Empress for a few perfectly still moments, then leaned over, grabbed her head, and slammed it into the floor, drawing hisses of sympathy from the audience. Meenah raised a leg into the air and slammed it down on the back of the Empress’ head, then dragged her back up by her hair, enjoying the spectacle of her face ruined.

Reaching up to the Empress’ ears while she was stunned, Meenah hooked her fingers in the golden hoops she wore there and tore them out, then did the same to the woman’s lip ring. Surveying her work with satisfaction, Meenah went and reclaimed her trident, then bent it easily over one knee.

“Yo jank ass ain’t worth krillin’,” she said, with no little distaste, then grabbed the Empress bodily and threw her to the sharks. The last scream of Her Impetuous Belligerence, before it was muffled into glubs by water quickly stained fuchsia, stayed with all but Meenah until they died. Meenah forgot it after seconds as the ring was mechanically moved up to the level of the stands, where it connected with a staircase that lead to an ornate fuchsia and gold throne. Meenah allowed attendants to rush up, place bangles on her arms and her usual eyebrow ring on her face, and drape a plush robe across her shoulders.

She turned sharply and sat in the throne like she was made for it, laid her right ankle on her left knee in a masculine form of crossing her legs, and propped up her right elbow on the armrest before letting her face rest on her fist and glubbing quietly. She had won her duel of succession without taking a single blow, an unheard of feat, and she knew talk of it wouldn’t cease for sweeps.

Kurloz walked forward, approaching her throne with a minimum of deference, and unfurled a scroll, the same parchment from earlier, that held Meenah’s official title, written in blood from all eleven available castes.

“All motherfuckers rise,” he called out, “FOR HER IMPERIOUS CONDESCENSION.” _Good title_ , thought Meenah. _Was hopin’ for somethin’ like that. Make mothaglubbas scared..._ She allowed a small smile to touch her face, and thought that, soon, she was going to be making Alternia a very different place.

 

 


End file.
